Alienists had noted that when people were put under undue and insurmountable stress some would laugh. This could be out of courtesy in an attempt to deffuse the situation or out of nervousness. For Gilles André it was certainly the latter.

He knew he would come face-to-face with the Opera Ghost at some point in the near future, but he had not expected to find him sitting casually at his buisness partner's desk. The Ghost - the man - cut a distinguished figure dressed in a light grey sack coat with matching trousers, exentuated by a black baroque waistcoat. His pristine attire, although consisting of more colour compared to his time at the Populaire , reminded Gilles that the man in front of him was not a gentleman - he was a pooter - much like Firmin

Raoul had told him that Erik Destler had managed to ingratiate himself into New York society - looking like a dapper gentleman - but Gilles had not been prepared for the sight in front of him. Of course, it made sense - he was enaged to Marguerite Giry and a woman such as she would look out of place upon the arm of anyone other than a gentleman. Yes, the Opera Ghost may have been no more than a ruffian dressed in fine clothing, but his manner and presence had lured two fine women into his orbit.

Gilles felt a twinge of jelousy as looked at his old enemy: not only had this man almost managed to win the heart of the outstanding Christine Daae, he had now encaptured Meg Giry's heart. Not only that, Raoul seemed to believe he posed a real threat to his marriage. Anyman with any sense would be happy to have the love of one woman, so why try and steal another man's wife? To him it made no sense, but he had never been so passionately in love with someone that he lost all sense of reason.

Firmin on the otherhand stood tall, in am almost laughable attempt to intimate the seated man. Gilles almost shook his head in disbelief as he watched his buisness partner's behaviour; he knew Richard had a plan, and that they were already playing with fire, but he could very well be staring into the abyss.

Gilles was taken aback when Erik rose, he remembered the man as tall, but he had forgotten the extent of hisntowering figure. As if to mock the other man Erik bowed deeply and gestured to the chair he had been occupying, glancing briefly at Gilles before locking eyes with Richard and stepping aside to allow him to take ownership of his seat.

Gilles waited for Erik to take a seat opposite Richard and then sheepishly made his was to his own desk, reluctant to turn his back on their latest employee, mentally cursing how bad this idea had been.

Without a word Erik reached for the decanter containing an amber liquid - that he assumed to be whisky - on the desk, making an over exaggerated gesture if checking the time before speaking again, "it is past noon, so do you mind?". Butnhis enquiry was nothing more than a rhetorical question for he continued, "of course you don't. Good management treat their talent well, especially when they have competing offers of commisions from across the globe".

"You can't travel to Europe", Richard Firmin said without thinking

"But Richard, I am in Europe", Erik spoke with an exaggerated gesture of his hands, "I knew you were not - as the English put it - the top-hole trump - but having such a poor understanding of geography is very concerning for a man in your position"

"I know England is in Europe, you... you...", he was unsure if what to say having lost his nerve almost immediately confounded by Erik's now towering form looming over him.

Fearful of his partner's safety Gilles quickly interceeded, hopeful they could enter into the final stages of their plan and move on, "Richard, Monsieur Destler, I believe we have buisness to discuss..."

--xxx--

Upon leaving Erik realised he had underestimated Gilles André, and that if he hadn't had Richard Firmin's interference he may have made an acceptable manager for the Populaire.

He had tongive the men credit: they had noticed a new interest, a gap in the market per se, and if they became pioneers of this new amalgated approach to theatre production then they would certainly make a fortune.

His primary condition of employment had been clear: Christine would sing the the lead. She had told him in her letters how much she missed music: how she felt lonely and wished she could sing his music to an audience. She hadn't elaborated on why she couldn't sing, but he knew: Raoul. Her career and talent was being stifled by her fop of a husband, his concern being his status and not the angel's wellbeing. Erik hated the man for taking her from him, but he hated him more - if that was possible - for denying the world her talent to maintain an obsolete and arbitory title.

The piece he had given Christine the pevious night was for her and not part of his larger composition he had written in anticipation of his meeting with the managers, although hearing the reason they had sought him out rather than forget the solid affair in Paris meant he needed to make some adjustments. There would need to be a mixture of caberet and ballet, comedy and political overtures. It was easily done, but he would need to update his knowledge on some of the more scintillating aspects of modern dance. He

would need to venture into the caberet curicut to update his knowledge, as it had been years since he had set foot in the Moulin Rouge.

As for Christine she would play his lead. A beautiful and innocent girl thrust into caberet dancing due to poverty caused by her guardian's unscrupulous buisness activities. She would be pure and innocent using her heavenly voice to draw the audience into her struggle. It would be implied she danced, but she never would - leaving the audiance wanting more, whereas Meg would be the opposite. She would be the temptress, the one to try and lead the angel into the depravity of the dance. Meg would be overtly seductive, whereas Christine's innocence would draw them in. He had pledged that Meg would not dance in a vaudeville show, but with him as the orchestrator it wouldn't be too offensive to her classically trained principles.

--xxx--

Once the Opera Ghost had outlined his idea Firmin had been estatic: it was exactly what he had envisaged: a mixture of vice and art. Christine Daae and Meg Giry - two women embroiled in the scandal at the Opera Populaire, Christine a headliner in Paris and Meg one in New York, performing a show written by Erik Destler, renowned composer. It would bring in a small fortune.

Gilles on the other hand was less enthralled by the prospect.

"You know the Vicomte de Chagny will not allow the Vicomtess to perform. He has been clear that until he is no longer financially dependant on his family he cannot risk further scandal".

Firmin shrugged indifferently, indicating he did not care for their sleeping partner's concerns.

"Richard be reasonable. Destler tried to kill him and kidnapped his wife. Raoul has done us a great favour by setting the wheels in motion for this venture, his only stipulation was that the Vicomtess be left out of this"

"Oh calm yourself! I never said she would perform, merely thay she can. Think of it Gilles! The Opera Ghost will believe her husband is the only hinderence to her performing and there will be such gossip when he acts. You know what he did for the love of that woman, imagine what he will do now he can coherce her to sing openly."

Gilles had a sinking feeling in his stomach: that was exactly what he was scared of.

--xxx--

As Gilles walked through Regent's Park towards the de Chagny residence he observed how the weather had improved since yesterday, then imprecated himself at how he was slowly becoming an English upper-middle-class gentleman. He prided himself on having been asily welcomed into the newly established upper-middle class, but it to be start commenting on something as quintensially British as the weather was slightly demoralising. He liked the country and some of their way, but he missed his homeland. Maybe, once a fortune had been made he could retire back to the outskirts of Paris.

He had never been to the de Chagny residence for fear of disturbing theory of the house. Raoul had been clear that his wife was not to know about their association until he deemed fit, but Gilles believed that such a request could be forfiet given the curcumstances. Afterall, it would be a servant that answered the door and if their master wasn't home he could make a swift exit.

He had been informed by a rather stern looking butler that the Vicomte could be found at his club, which was a relief to the elder French man as he would not need to trapse around London looking for his friend. Such a task would be arduous and difficult as he wasn't entirely sure what the Vicomte did when he wasn't at the club.

Once he had arrived and been relieved of his hat and coat it didn't take Gilles long to locate his friend. He found him engaged in a game of cards with a Russian nobel who claimed kinship with Tsar Nicholas and a German Baron who had only recently arrived in the country.

Having caught his friend's eye and rather concerned expression Raoul forfeited the game and followed Gilles to a private room that was often used for less-than-legal buisness dealings.

"What ails you?" Raoul enquired as he poured both himself and Gilles a large port, offering the largest measure.to his clearly unnerved friend.

"The Ghost - Destler - came to the theatre today. Used his normal theatrics to gain enterence, but he insisting your wife sing".

Raoul had known this was coming. His wife had been writing to the damned Opera Ghost and had probably told him she missed singing and he was the cause.

"Get me an advance on my money and she can not only sing, but dance as well. I followed through on my part of this God awful plan...much to my own personal risk.", Raoul absent minded twisted his wedding ring; he needed to tell some, free some of the pressure on his chest.

"I man lost my friend. She loves me, I know she does, but she is frightfully unhappy without her - without his - music", he crossed and stared out of the window. It was dusk and the greyish yellow smog was starting to settle and prevent the dimming sunlight reach the streets below. With a hefty sigh he continued, "When I agreed to this I believed hearing his music would be enough, maybe seeing him would help her, but I was wrong", he then l et out a nervous chuckle before facing his companion, "she has been writing to him - in secret of course - but Gilles, I fear she loves him".

"But he is a murderer! He tried to kill you!"

Raoul had tears in his eyes as he began to speak. He was very well aware that Destler had tried to kill him and it pained him beyond reason to think his lovely wkfe could harbour feelings for someone who acted so despicably. "It seems such things can be forgiven or at least overlooked"

"That explains his relationship with mademoiselle Giry". Gilles hadn't meant to speak those words aloud, and the strangeness of the misplaced comment was reflected in his friend's expression.

Gilles felt his heart leap slightly after Raoul had recounted his understanding of the relationship between Marguerite Giry and Erik Destler. As the two were not engaged, and as the Opera Ghist had no romantic feelings for Meg Giry, it was possible he could court her. Her mother was safely on the otherside of the Atlantic Ocean and it was apparent that an age difference didn't seem to bother Meg; Destler was at least fifteen years her senior.

"I was thinking of telling Christine I know of her correspondence, but I am scared. If I had money, an advance on what I am owed, then I could let her sing" he added at the end of the story in a sullen tone. "I travelled to a different continent to lure him here. I bribed police officials, and risked my wife's sanity! My wife who I believe has feelings for the man - the monster!"

"If it were up to me my friend I would, but the accounts need both Richard's and I's signature, and he won't. He had been quite clear he wants to see how this whole thing plays out".

Raoul didn't often rise to anger but the impudence of Richard Firmin was too much, "He what? Well I assure you Gilles André: Christine shan't sing until I get my money. Opera Ghost and Richard Firmin be damned!"